by DS Butler
She was really starting to annoy me now. I had already apologized, and there really wasn’t that much more I could do.
She had obviously never attempted to make Grandma Grant do anything. Otherwise, she would have known she was asking the impossible.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to take that up with Grandma Grant,” I said. “I’m really quite…”
“That’s not good enough. Our Christmas was ruined because of that ridiculous tree!”
I smiled apologetically at Sandy, who seemed quite surprised by the outburst.
“I think you’re overreacting,” I said to Mrs. Townsend. “You may have had a faulty Christmas tree, but I’m sure you had a much better Christmas than poor Bernie Crouch. I think you need a lesson in perspective.”
Mr. Townsend, who had shuffled up beside his wife, gasped and said, “And you, young lady, need a lesson in respecting your elders.”
But Mrs. Townsend did have the decency to look a little shamefaced as her gaze shifted to Sandy Crouch.
“I didn’t mean to infer that our… What I mean to say is… I’m sorry about Bernie…”
Sandy Crouch nodded stiffly. “So am I, but I’m trying to move on with things and get my life back to normal now.”
Dr. Madeline, who had been listening to the conversation from her table, said, “It must be difficult to move on when nobody knows who killed him.”
Sandy blinked and then nodded.
“Ridiculous,” said Mr. Townsend, determined not to be pushed out of the conversation. “We know who did it, don’t we, dear?”
There was silence in the diner as everyone turned to look at Mr. and Mrs. Townsend.
“Did I just hear that right?” I asked. “You think you know who killed Bernie Crouch?”
Bernie was hovering right in front of Mr. Townsend’s face and was quite a distraction.
“Ask him, Harper! Ask him who did it!”
I shook my head impatiently. Of course, I was going to ask him. What did Bernie think I was going to do?
“Who do you think did it?” I asked.
Mrs. Townsend smiled smugly. “We saw Boris Barrymore enter the diner on Christmas Eve, only to leave again very quickly.”
Sandy Crouch paled considerably, and her hands gripped the edge of the table.
“So you think Boris Barrymore killed him?” I asked slowly. I supposed it did make sense. Boris had harbored a grudge against Bernie for a long time.
“Of course, why else would he lie to the chief and Deputy McGrady? He told them he didn’t come to the diner on Christmas Eve.”
I nodded. That was quite damning evidence.
“It’s only a matter of time until they arrest him,” Mr. Townsend said confidently.
Before I could ask them any more questions, Sandy pushed up from the table and said shakily, “Sorry, Harper, I’d like to cancel my order. I’m not feeling hungry, after all.”
Then she turned and walked quickly out of the diner.
I felt bad for her. Clearly, she’d been putting on a brave front, and she was still very upset over Bernie’s death.
“I told you,” Bernie said sadly. “She’s taking my death very hard.”
Dr. Madeline caught my eye. “Don’t worry, Harper, I’ll go and talk to her later.” She turned to face Mr. and Mrs. Townsend. “That wasn’t very compassionate.”
“What? What did we say? We were just telling the truth.”
Feeling guilty for being so insensitive in front of Sandy, I turned back to the Townsends. “So do Chief Wickham and Deputy McGrady believe it was Boris Barrymore who killed Bernie?”
Mrs. Townsend nodded. “They’ll probably arrest him at any moment.”
“They’re just dotting all the i’s and crossing all the t’s,” Mr. Townsend said equally confidently.
Feeling a little shell shocked, I quickly glanced at Bernie to see how he was coping with the news. He looked distressed. I scooped up the iced tea that Sandy had left untouched and carried it back to the kitchen.
In the kitchen, I quickly asked Archie if I could take a break for five minutes to call Chief Wickham, filling him in on what the Townsends had just told me.
He looked shocked and agreed immediately, so I took my apron off, grabbed my cell phone and walked through the back room and out into the tiny backyard behind the diner.
The good thing about living in a small town was how easy it was to speak to Chief Wickham. Often the administrative staff would be away from the desk filing, and the call would be directed straight to the chief’s office, which happened on this occasion.
Good for the residents of Abbot Cove, not so good for our poor, beleaguered chief of police.
“Chief, this is Harper. Mr. and Mrs. Townsend just told everyone in the diner that Boris Barrymore killed Bernie Crouch. Is it true?”
The chief gave an exasperated sigh. “Harper, I thought I told you to stay out of this.”
“Yes, I know, but I just wanted to know whether it was true. Are you planning to arrest Boris Barrymore?”
“We are looking into it. It is one of our lines of inquiry, please just be patient. I know it’s not nice to think there’s a killer on the loose in our small town, but Joe and I can’t just arrest people based on gossip. We have to look at the evidence.”
“I know,” I said impatiently. “That’s why I’m asking. Is there evidence to suggest Boris Barrymore killed Bernie Crouch?”
“I can’t comment on an active investigation. When an arrest is made, you will be the first to know, along with everybody else in Abbott Cove.”
“Then I won’t be first to know, will I?”
“What?”
“If I find out at the same time as everybody else in Abbott Cove, I’m not going to be the first to know, am I?”
“Harper Grant, are you trying to annoy me deliberately?”
I sighed. “No, Chief Wickham. Sorry.”
After I hung up, I turned to see Bernie had been watching me.
He clasped his hands in front of his chest and asked, “What did the chief say? Are they about to arrest Boris?”
I shrugged. “He wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information.”
Bernie frowned and shook his head. “I don’t understand it. Boris had a good motive, and he was there at the time of my murder, so why haven’t they brought him in for questioning?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Bernie,” I said quietly.
He looked so miserable I risked saying a few words to him. There was only a small chance I would be overheard. Usually, I wouldn’t take that chance, but the look on Bernie’s face told me he really needed to talk things over.
“This isn’t right, Harper. I can’t bear not knowing.”
I nodded. “I know. It must be very hard, but maybe Chief Wickham has a plan.”
Bernie looked at me incredulously. “No offense to Chief Wickham, he’s a fine upstanding man, but he hasn’t exactly dealt with lots of murders in his time, has he?”
“To be fair, he has worked on a couple of murder investigations, and he has always found the culprit.”
“Yes, but Loretta has told me all about that. You were the one finding all the clues. If it hadn’t been for you, do you really think the chief would have uncovered the murderer?”
I thought about that for a moment and then nodded. “I think he would have gotten there eventually.”
Bernie’s mouth set in a firm line and then he said, “I’m sorry, Harper, but I’m not prepared to wait while Chief Wickham and Joe McGrady twiddle their thumbs. I’m going to go and confront Boris myself.”
My eyes widened, and I shook my head. “Absolutely not, Bernie. That’s a terrible idea.”
“Why? I might find some clues. I can’t wait around here knowing that Boris Barrymore could be my killer.”
As Bernie began to move away from me, I reached out and tried to grab him, momentarily forgetting I couldn’t grasp onto a ghost, and my hand fell through his arm.
He looked back
at me. “I am sorry, Harper. I know you’re trying to help me. But this is something I have to do alone.”
Before I could stop him, Bernie zoomed off back through the wall into the diner.
I rushed through the door, zipping through the back room and into the diner, but there was no sign of Bernie.
I looked around desperately, drawing some unwanted attention, and then I caught Loretta’s eye.
She grimaced. “I tried to stop him and talk him out of it, but he’s gone to confront Boris.”
CHAPTER 17
I only spared a couple of seconds to explain to Archie why I needed to run off in the middle of my shift. He wasn’t happy, and I can’t say I blamed him. I could hardly tell him the full story — that I was helping Bernie Crouch now that he was a ghost and was worried that he was going to do some serious damage to Boris Barrymore, the lead suspect in his murder case.
Yes, I think Archie would have been ready to ship me off for some counseling with Dr. Madeline Clarkson pretty sharpish if I’d said anything like that.
I only spared the time to hang up my apron and grab my jacket before dashing out into the cold.
Snow was starting to fall but only softly.
I cursed Bernie under my breath. This wasn’t really what I’d had in mind. With any other ghost, I wouldn’t have been quite so worried, but I knew Bernie already had special powers. He was able to move objects around with ease, and that worried me. He could hurt Boris Barrymore, or at the very least, scare him witless.
Of course, if Boris had murdered Bernie, he deserved to be scared, but we didn’t have any evidence to prove he’d committed the crime.
Although I wanted the case to be resolved for Bernie’s sake, I was almost hoping Boris wasn’t at home as I got closer to the residential section of Abbot Cove. I knew Boris lived over here somewhere, but I didn’t know his actual address.
I hoped I would see Bernie zooming ahead of me somewhere, but he was nowhere to be seen so I couldn’t follow him. Instead, I picked up my cell phone and dialed Jess’s number.
As soon as she answered, I said, “This is an emergency, Jess. I need Boris Barrymore’s address.”
“Oh, nice to talk to you, too,” Jess said sarcastically. “Since when did I become your personal assistant?”
“Please don’t be difficult. Bernie has just flown out of the diner and is preparing to confront Boris Barrymore because he thinks Boris killed him. I’ve got to get to him in time and stop him, but I don’t know Boris’s address.”
“Why do you think I would know it?” Jess asked sounding perplexed.
I gave an impatient huff, and my breath left my mouth in a small white cloud. “I didn’t think you’d know it off the top of your head,” I said. “But I’m sure he’s got an account at the library so you could look up his address on your computer.”
“I can’t do that,” Jess said, sounding scandalized. “That information is private.”
I didn’t have time for Jess to suddenly become a moral, upstanding citizen of Abbot Cove. I considered blackmail, but in the end, I decided to beg. I wasn’t proud.
“Please, Jess. I wouldn’t ask you unless this was a matter of life and death. Can you get to the library and look up his address?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then I heard Jess sigh. “Fine. I'm at the library now. I came in to sort through some of the old stock while we are closed for the holidays. I’ll look it up, but if you get in trouble over this, do not get me involved, do you understand?”
Charming. Here I was about to confront a potential murderer, and Jess was worried about getting in trouble over divulging an address.
Still, I didn’t point that out. I didn’t want to remind Jess I was going into a dangerous situation and give her a chance to try and talk me out of it.
I heard her fingers clicking on a keyboard and then she read out Boris’s address to me.
It was only two streets away. I began to walk quickly.
“Thank you, Jess.”
“Let me know how it goes, Harper. If you wait just five minutes, I’ll come with you. I’m not sure it’s safe to be going on your own.”
“It’s fine,” I insisted, even though I was pretty sure it wasn’t fine at all. But there didn’t seem much point in both of us putting ourselves in a risky situation. At least this way Jess knew where I was if anything happened to me.
“I can handle it,” I reassured her. “I’ll call you as soon as I’ve managed to persuade Bernie to come back with me and leave the investigating to Chief Wickham and Deputy McGrady.”
“Well, if you are sure,” Jess said doubtfully.
“I am.”
I hung up on Jess and started to run toward Boris Barrymore’s address. The air was so cold today it felt like it was burning my lungs.
The snow was starting to fall a little heavier as I turned the corner just in time to see Bernie disappear through the wall into Boris Barrymore’s house.
I groaned as I looked at the house and wondered what to do. The outside of the house was perfectly symmetrical. The windows were freshly painted, and despite the fact snow lay patchily on the surface of the lawn, I could see it had been carefully tended.
I pushed open the gate on the white picket fence and quickly walked up the path before knocking on the shiny, red front door.
It took an agonizing minute for Boris to open the door. My mind whirled with possibilities as I imagined what Bernie could be doing inside. When Boris finally opened the door, he looked down at me with narrowed eyes.
“Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”
Over Boris’s shoulder, I could see Bernie hovering in the hallway. He did a double take when he saw me. “Yes, Harper. What are you doing here?” Bernie demanded. “Are you crazy? He could be a cold-blooded killer! I’m perfectly capable of doing this alone.”
I gulped when Bernie reminded me that Boris could be a killer as I stared up into the man’s cold, dark eyes.
Despite Bernie insisting he could do this alone, I had no idea what this actually entailed. What was he expecting to get out of Boris?
I cleared my throat and tried to sound more confident than I felt when I said, “It’s come to my attention, Mr. Barrymore, that you lied about your whereabouts on Christmas Eve. You did, in fact, visit the diner and…”
Before I could say any more, Boris grabbed my arm and manhandled me inside before shutting the door behind me.
He glared down at me, looking so furious I started to tremble. I could feel my knees knocking together.
Maybe I should have waited for Jess to come with me.
“I’m not having my neighbors listen to all your lies as you spread nasty rumors on my doorstep,” Boris said as he let go of my arm.
I took a step back and tried to take a deep breath to steady my nerves.
“Well, since you so kindly invited me inside,” I said sarcastically, “perhaps you could keep up the hospitality and offer me a warm drink. It’s absolutely freezing out there.”
Both Bernie and Boris looked at me as though I had lost my mind. I know my behavior seemed quite odd. I was asking for a warm drink from a man who could be a murderer, after all. But I did have an ulterior motive. I wanted to get Bernie alone so I could talk some sense into him.
Boris pondered my request for a moment and then finally nodded. “Fine. One cup of tea and take your shoes off at the door. I’ve just vacuumed.”
I leaned down to take off my shoes.
“You can sit in there,” Boris said, pointing to a door off the hallway. “Sit still and don’t touch anything while you’re in there.”
As soon as Boris stalked off to the kitchen and left me in the hallway, I exhaled a long breath in relief.
Bernie pulled a face. “He’s not much of a host, is he?”
“Never mind that,” I hissed, beckoning Bernie to follow me into the room where Boris had instructed me to wait.
The room was a small sitting room, every surface gleamed w
ith polish, and all the knickknacks were carefully arranged and pointing in the same direction. The inside of Boris’s house was just as immaculate as the outside.
I sat down on one of the floral covered armchairs and looked pointedly at Bernie. “I’ll ask Boris a couple of questions and then we are leaving together. Nothing good is going to come out of you hurting or scaring Boris,” I warned Bernie.
Bernie pouted. “So you say. I think it might be quite fun. I need to get my revenge somehow.”
“We don’t even know if he was the killer,” I whispered. “He may have a perfectly good reason for going to the diner on Christmas Eve.”
Bernie raised an eyebrow, and I had to admit I couldn’t really think of a good reason for Boris popping in for such a brief time, but that certainly wasn’t enough evidence to be absolutely sure he was the killer.
“I’ll just float into the kitchen and find out what’s keeping him. I’ll make sure he’s not slipping something into your drink,” Bernie said meaningfully.
His words made me shiver. It hadn’t been that long ago that somebody had tried to drug me. I tried not to think about it too much.
“No! Wait, Bernie!”
But it was too late. Bernie ignored me as he zoomed out into the kitchen
Left alone in the small sitting room, I felt very uncomfortable. Boris’s house had a cold, sterile feel. There were lots of ornaments, but it felt like it was all for show. Everything was in its place. It wasn’t a comfortable, lived-in home that was for sure.
Before I could get up and look at Boris’s possessions, Bernie zoomed back in the room declaring that everything was fine, and Boris hadn’t drugged my drink.
“Although, you should see the state of his kitchen cabinets. He’s got all the tins lined up in perfectly straight lines, the labels all facing out. If that’s not a clue to a weird mind, I don’t know what is,” Bernie said raising his eyebrows.
